


character building

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Twins, Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Simon and Daniel are twins, alice is kara and luther's daughter, connor and rk900 are brothers, it's a goddamn au of my au, kindergarten teacher Simon, markus doesn't know this, no sad abusive backstory bye, who doesn't love identical twin hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15399465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: It's no Bellini's, but there's a certain unpolished charm to the Bowerbird Arts and Crafts store. With the Manfred surname Carl could've easily gotten him a job in their favourite paint shop but Carl insisted Markus apply elsewhere. It'll build character, Carl had told him, and soon Markus finds himself captivated by the regular characters that frequent the store- namely the young blond man with the bright blue eyes.He hopes the man's just as captivated by him in return, but receiving mixed signals means some things don't go as smoothly as planned.Or - Simon teaches at the local kindergarten and often buys craft supplies at Bowerbird's. Sometimes he's too busy to go, but luckily his twin brother Daniel is happy to help.





	1. my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ingu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/gifts).



It's no Bellini's, but there's a certain unpolished charm to the Bowerbird Arts and Crafts store. With the Manfred surname Carl could've easily gotten him a job in their favourite paint shop but Carl insisted Markus apply elsewhere. It'll build character, Carl had told him.

And that's how Markus finds himself working the weekend shifts and the occasional Wednesday at the cluttered shop. Catering to a broad range of customers from diligent scrapbookers to broke college students, from amateur artists to elementary kids; Markus discovers he quite likes the unpredictable variety of people the store brings. After a month he's able to pick out the regulars too.

 

There's a petite blonde office lady who buys at least one packet of origami paper weekly. She's a secretary for some important genius businessman, and likes to fold intricate creations to keep her hands busy and her mind clear of the stress in her downtime. She folds Markus a unicorn and he sits it on the cash register. He names it Gaff.

There's a skittish but friendly young man with heavy scarring on the left side of his face who buys scrapbooking supplies for his garden. He talks to Markus all about his plants and shows him photos on his phone. On occasion he brings his scrapbook to show him, and Markus helps him choose coloured cardstock and markers for each new greenery addition. He never enters the store if there's anyone else inside, and Markus takes care to move fluidly and slowly with his gestures so as not to startle him.

There's a pair of brothers, one taller with grey-blue eyes and one smaller with warm brown eyes, and they buy photo album supplies. For record-keeping, the taller one explains as the smaller one deliberates over what backing he should buy, he likes to take polaroids and those don't fit into standard photo albums. Markus helps them choose black backings with archival glue so the colours stand out without damaging the polaroids as time marches on. Their father has a giant Saint Bernard dog named Sumo, and Markus gets enthusiastically shown photo updates whenever the brothers are instore.

There's a set of identical triplets, young jovial men with red hair and green eyes and contagious smiles. They run an entertainment company for children's nautical-themed parties, and Markus is often called down an aisle to provide opinions on what papers and decorations they could use for their upcoming event. They have an amusing way of talking that somehow doesn't overlap, and is picked up seamlessly by each brother the moment there is a pause in a sentence.

His favourite customer by far is the young blond man with the summer sky blue eyes. He buys the gallon jugs of primary colour water-based paints, the kind used by small children with small hands. He works at the local kindergarten and lives nearby, Markus learns one sunny Sunday when he dares to ask, and he frequents the store every fortnight. He’s soft-spoken and mild-mannered and Markus finds himself inexplicably drawn to him.

“Have the craft paper pads arrived this week?” It’s another sunny Sunday and the midday light makes his hair glow gold.

“Stock just came in on Friday.” Markus confirms, rounding the counter so he can lead him down the correct aisle. The young man grabs a few stacks before chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“I need about five pairs of pinking scissors, do you sell the child-safety variety here?”

“In the scrapbooking section,” Markus explains, leading him two aisles down, “here, by the paper punches.”

“Oh, actually those might be good too. Do you think they’re safe enough for kids to use?”

“I think so, the sharp edges are completely concealed see?” He tilts the hole punch. “And you can only fit a few pieces of paper through the slot so it’s too small for fingers.”

“That’s perfect, I’ll take a few of those too.” The man confirms with a nod. Markus ponders the different designs, and opts for simple recognisable shapes. He plucks one from the hanging hooks.

“Maybe this one?”

“You’re giving me your heart, is this going to be expensive?” The man teases, and Markus laughs brightly.

“Not if you promise to take care of it.”

 

* * *

 

The Soft Blond Boy is back sooner than expected, entering the store one late Wednesday afternoon. Markus straightens immediately from where he’d been unpacking coloured pencil tins, and returns to stand behind the counter.

He loses sight of him down the aisles but the man eventually places a basket on the counter filled with packets of cheap chubby non-toxic markers and glitter tube pens.

“Welcome back,” Markus greets him with a warm smile, “how’s my heart treating you?”

“...What?” The man blinks at him, expression mildly disturbed. The pause between them is long and awkward before he speaks again. “Is there an extra surcharge on Amex?”

Markus’ smile falters and he feels his face heat. “Uh, no, no sir.” He rings up the total and the man uses his smartphone to pay before swiping the shopping bag off the counter and leaving.

He’s left feeling a little humiliated, and it sits there uneasily in the hollow of his chest.

 

* * *

 

The shopping bag is dropped unceremoniously on the coffee table, disturbing the lesson plans from their carefully arranged piles.

“Got the stuff.” Daniel declares, as Simon looks up from his notebook. “Freckles was there today.” He adds as an afterthought, snorting in amusement when Simon suddenly averts his gaze, the tips of his ears pink.

“Thanks Danny.” His brother stretches, not bothering to hide his tired yawn. “I wasn’t going to make it in time before closing if I left after work.”

“S’fine.” Daniel shrugs, flopping onto the couch beside him. “Are you going to ask him out in this lifetime or-?”

“Danny!” Simon cuts him off sharply, cheeks red. “Don’t you have a date to prepare for?”

“Yeah, and you might have one too if you ever actually ask him out.” Daniel teases, leaping off the couch in an all too practiced gesture as Simon attempts to whap him with a cushion. "I'm going I'm going!"

 

* * *

 

“I’m taking very good care of it.” Simon blurts as Markus scans the little tubs of glow in the dark paint and packets of synthetic brushes. "Y-your heart, I mean. The- the heart hole punches you helped me buy two weeks ago?"

Markus blinks a couple of times before he offers a hesitant smile. "Oh uh, thanks. I'm glad."

Simon knows he's bright red and he also knows he's an utter idiot so as soon as Markus finishes bagging the items he all but snatches it from him and hastily retreats to the safety of his car.

 

 


	2. spring showers

* * *

 

It's May, and they've finally eased into the nice part of Spring with fewer showers and the promise of Summer around the corner. The days are longer, warmer and there's a lightness to people's moods.

Ralph, the avid albeit Skittish Gardener, visits more and more, brandishing his rapidly fattening scrapbook with pride. He excitedly shows Markus all the new blooms, all the new vegetables, near breathless in his rush to get the words out. Markus can't help but smile and absorb some of his joy, feeling some of Ralph's pride rub off on him. There's a certain sense of accomplishment, he realises, in nurturing something as it grows much like stepping back and admiring a canvas after working on it for months.

 

Sumo the very large Saint Bernard physically graces the store one Saturday morning, shown off by a very proud, very excited Brown-eyed Brother.

“Markus this is Sumo!” He introduces them, and Markus absolutely cannot resist coming around the counter so he can pat the giant canine. “Ronan and I are meeting dad at brunch but we thought we’d drop by and say hi.”

“It’s about time, really,” the blue-eyed brother adds, “Connor’s shown you so many photos you’re well overdue to meet him.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sumo.” Markus grins, ruffling the fur on his large head. The dog chuffs in response, nosing his hand before giving it a large wet lick.

“I think he likes you.” Connor declares and Markus gives the dog another fond pat.

“I’m very honoured.”

 

Just before closing that evening, Markus is greeted by a fox. The plushtoy peeks up over the counter with its triangle ears and button eyes, before a little girl strains up on tiptoe so she can catch his gaze.

“Excuse me mister do you have yellow ribbons?”

“Yes I do,” Markus confirms, “shall I take you and Mister Fox to them?”

“Yes please.” The little girl smiles. “His name is Fantastic.”

“Fantastic Mister Fox?” Markus chuckles as the girl nods, outwardly pleased he recognises the reasoning behind the name. Behind her is the Soft Blond Boy, and he gives Markus a shy smile. 

“Thank you for helping us out.”

“It’s no bother,” Markus reassures as he leads them to the wall display of ribbon reels, “is it for someone special?”

“We’re wrappin’ a present for mom!” The little girl bounces up and down excitedly, her cloud of curls fluffing with the movement. “She likes yellow so we need a yellow ribbon!”

There's an odd queasy feeling in Markus' belly, something like an ache, like an envious disappointed ache that Soft Blond Boy has a family already. “I see.” Markus recovers and offers a smile, pointing at the selection of yellow ribbons. “What kind of yellow ribbon would you like?"

"A sparkly one!" She declares, and he picks a wide yellow organza ribbon with glitter flecks to hold out for her approval. "Yessss!" 

He returns to the counter, the pair in tow, and cuts a decent length before winding the ribbon and carefully securing it with a rubber band so it wouldn't unfurl. The little girl very carefully places a five dollar note on the counter and Markus hands her her change with a smile.

"What do we say Alice?" The young man prompts her.

"Thank you very much sir!" Alice recites politely, squeezing her fox plushtoy.

"Your daughter's adorable." Markus compliments, and he flushes red, shaking his head.

"O-oh, no she's not my daughter. She's a friend's daughter, I'm just helping her and her dad with the surprise party." He corrects, and Alice tugs at his hand impatiently.

"We gotta goooo, c'mon! We have wrapping to do!"

"We've taken up too much of your time, we better get going- thanks again." 

"It's no problem at all." Markus means it as he offers him a smile, heart fluttering at the notion _maybe he has a chance_. "See you again soon."

 

He's so distracted by the encounter he almost misses his bus stop, and has to almost throw himself down the aisle to make it out before the doors close. After hanging up his coat he manages to trudge into the main living space and flop onto the couch.

"That bad a day huh?" Carl's amused rasp greets him, and Markus looks up to find him wheeling himself from the studio.

"Not bad, just-" he struggles to find the word, any word, "- it was just a lot to take in."

"Is it that boy?"

"...Maybe?" Markus buries his face in a cushion as Carl laughs.

"Maybe you better ask for his name if you want any hope of asking for his number later." Carl teases and Markus just makes a frustrated muffled sound into the cushion in response. Carl laughs louder, reaching over to muss his cropped hair affectionately. "Go on kiddo, you'll never know unless you try."

 

* * *

 

He has to fill in for Traci for a whole week while she looks after her sick girlfriend, and truthfully Markus doesn't mind. He's grown very fond of the job even if his customer service self frightens him a little. Maybe in the future they'll have built androids for this. Maybe in the future all customer service will be performed by androids, which would in turn probably be the fastest route to a revolution because he's not sure how anyone can build something to cope with repeated verbal abuse and not expect a revolution.

Markus stiffles a yawn, rubbing his eyes a little dry from the bright fluorescent lighting. Tuesdays aren't especially busy for the store, and so Markus finds his concentration drifting. From where he stands behind the counter, he can see straight out the large shopfront window into the town square and a slice of the park further down. He can see people walking their dogs, out to enjoy the sunshine today offers. He flips open his sketchbook and idles a pencil across the page. His latest sketch is of Sumo dutifully holding the shopping bag in his large slobbery mouth, and the memory makes him smile. 

"-long, don't worry." The door opens, and the Soft Blond Boy makes a sharp left and disappears down the aisle, talking on his phone. "No, I'm just picking up a couple of things for Si. No I won't be late. Yes yes I  _know_ this is your night off-" 

He walks too far for Markus to hear properly, but returns down another aisle soon after and places the shopping basket on the counter. Jumbo coloured chalk perfect for pavement drawings.

"Ronan, it's fine I live like, five minutes from here I'll have enough time to drop this off before our dinner." He rolls his eyes though his smile is exasperatedly fond. "Hang on let me pay for these-" He pulls the phone away from his ear to tap on the screen and bring up the relevant bank app. "No extra surcharge on Amex, right?"

Markus shakes his head, and the man holds his phone over the eftpos tablet. It beeps to confirm payment, and the man immediately replaces the phone back against his ear.

"Yeah I'm done, I'm heading out now. Tell Connor I said hi and give Sumo a pat." A pause as he grabs the bag and heads out. "I love you too you big idiot, I'll see you soon."

He watches him leave and his heart gives an awful twist in his chest.

Pros: the Soft Blond Boy is interested in men.  
Cons: he's already dating another man- a man Markus  _knows_.

Markus groans, hiding his face in his hands. Of course.  _Of course._

 

* * *

 

Spring, it turns out, isn't quite done with the deluges. It's Sunday again, closing out the week he's spent covering for Traci, and it had started off with the promise of sunshine. Markus hadn't bothered with a coat, since the past few days had been pleasantly warm. A mistake, really, but at least he was inside nice and dry by the time the rain fell suddenly and heavily like a sheet of water.

The town square is mostly deserted even though it's midday, and Markus squints as he spots a lone figure hurrying through the rain. He recognises the short blond hair, though it's currently plastered to his face as he runs closer and closer to the store. The pavement is too slick and Markus watches in horror as the other man slips and crashes forward.

He's up and out before he can even process what he's doing, running through the rain and dropping down into a crouch so he can help the blond back upright. There's a nasty graze on his forehead, and he immediately favours one leg over the other, stumbling as Markus shoulders him so they can rush back inside the store.

"T-thanks!" He gasps as Markus eases him to sit on the stool behind the counter. "You didn't have to do that, now you're soaked too."

"I wasn't about to just leave you there." Markus huffs, grabing the tea towels from the breakroom. "What are you doing out in the rain?" He hands the tea towels over and the other man gives him a grateful, sightly guilty look.

"I don't live that far away I thought it'd be nice to walk." A heavy sigh as he starts to pat himself dry. "I didn't think it was going to just bucket down halfway here."

Markus frowns at the graze on his forehead steadily running rivulets of red and pink down his face. He enters the breakroom again to rummage around for the first aid kit, returning to find the man gingerly trying to dab at the cut.

"Here, let me." Markus prompts, setting the kit on the counter. He fishes out some alcohol swabs to clean the wound, flashing him an apologetic smile when the other man hisses in discomfort. "Sorry, I'm almost done."

"Do you have one with a smiley face?" The blond asks jokingly as Markus starts to peel open the bandaid packet.

"I'm afraid this one's just a grownup beige colour." He declares, carefully smoothing the bandaid over the graze. "There we go." He thumbs away stray raindrops, smudging the last of the blood off of his brow. Without being prompted, he takes his hand too and cleans away dirt from the milder scrapes.

"I'm Simon." The other man offers hesitantly. "In case you uh, you wanted to put a name to the face that just stacked it." 

Markus laughs though not unkindly. "It's nice to finally put a name to your familiar face, Simon."

"I'm sorry I made you run out into the rain." Simon apologises morosely, but Markus shakes his head.

"You didn't make me do anything, Simon. I wanted to help you." 

"At least let me help you clean up?" Simon offers, gesturing at the growing puddles around them from where their wet clothes had dripped. 

"Alright, deal. I'll go run the machine on for some coffee how does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect, thank you Markus." 

He opens his mouth, about to ask how he knew his name before realising his uniform displayed a rather large pin that read 'My name is MARKUS' on it. His jaw clicks shut and he retreats to the breakroom, cheeks hot with embarrassment. When he returns with two mugs in hand, Simon is on his knees mopping at the floor diligently with the towels.

"Thanks for helping out."

"Oh, I'm used to this. It's part of the job. Though it's usually not water." Simon catches himself and winces. "I mean, because I'm a kindergarten teacher, y'know, kids they can- I'll stop."

Markus just grins and hands over one of the mugs. "It's okay, I get it." They sit for a while and sip coffee in easy companionship, the rain and the radio covering any awkward silences between them. "What were you coming in for?" He asks after a while.

"I need paper plates and popsicle sticks." Simon puts the coffee mug on the counter so he can fish out his phone from his pocket. "We're going to make [watermelon paper fans](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/200832464617961365/) for the hotter days to come." He brings up the pinterest pin. "I'm thinking of making [paper plate apples](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/200832464617999923/) too, with some coloured cardboard."

"That's pretty cute, and useful at the same time." Markus nods with a grin. "Sounds like fun. Here, you finish your coffee and I'll grab the stuff."

"No, Markus please I-" 

"It's fine, I promise you." He reassures him. "You're literally the first person who's been in the store." Without waiting any further, he gets up and wanders down the aisles despite Simon's protests. He picks up a packet of paper plates and popsicle sticks, a wad of red craft paper and a gallon jug of PVA glue. 

"Do you think this is enough?"

"Yeah that should do it." Simon pulls a few bills out of his wallet as he rings up the total and bags the items. "Thanks again Markus."  

"No problem." He hands over the bag. "Rain's easing up, I think you'll be able to go home and properly dry off." 

Simon lingers by the counter, lips pursed. He takes a deep breath to steel himself. "Um, would you like to get something to eat after your shift? I live nearby and there's a nice bistro around and um-"

"Simon, I-" Markus looks over at him, perplexed. "Are you asking me out? Is that, y'know, a good idea?"

"It wouldn't be during work hours!" Simon hurriedly answers. "I'm not saying right now, but like, after?"

He thinks back to the other day, to the phone conversation he overheard, to the  _Ronan, it's fine_ and the _I love you too_.

"No, Simon." Markus refuses firmly. "No thank you."

Simon looks physically hurt, his shoulders drooping. "R-right, sorry I just- I read this wrong, sorry I'll go now, I'm sorry-" He hurries to the door, pausing to flash him a brief awkward smile, "thanks for helping me out, and um, I'm sorry again for- just, forget all this okay? Bye."

 

* * *

 

When Daniel locks the door behind him and flops on the couch, his brother barely looks up from where he's curled up in the armchair.

"Si, you ok?" Frowning when he receives no response, Daniel reaches out and gently squeezes his shoulder. "Si? C'mon, what's wrong?"

"O-oh I just, I uh. I slipped in the rain." Simon looks up and points at the bandaid on his brow. "I grazed myself but I took a couple of painkillers. Just waiting for them to kick in now, don't worry."

"Of course I worry Simon you klutz." Daniel sighs overdramatically, earning a soft laugh from his twin. He musses his hair fondly. "Be careful next time ok?"

"Sure thing Danny."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know Alice was originally a biracial girl? Well
> 
>   * [Now](http://detroit-become-human.wikia.com/wiki/File:Alice_Williams_Concept_Art_1.jpg)
>   * [You](http://detroit-become-human.wikia.com/wiki/File:Alice_Williams_Concept_Art_2.jpg)
>   * [Do!](http://detroit-become-human.wikia.com/wiki/File:Alice_Williams_Concept_Art_3.jpg)
> 



	3. coffee and cookies

Any fear he harbours that things will grow awkward between them melt away the next bright Sunday when Simon walks into Bowerbird’s with a small smile.

“Good morning.” He greets politely. “Weather’s holding up today, unlike last week.”

“Last Sunday was a nightmare, how random was that rain?” Simon rolls his eyes, patting down his light coat for something before plucking a small piece of paper from one of his pockets. “Do you have err, more of this-?” He holds out the paper to Markus.

The surface is smooth and glossy upon tactile inspection, the paper thin and flexible without being translucent. “Archival print paper?” He guesses, looking at Simon for confirmation.

“I have no idea, sorry.” He shakes his head with an apologetic smile. “I think so? It’s some fancy paper you print photographs on. I’m picking some up for my boyfriend’s brother since I’m headed there anyway.”

“...Ronan and Connor?”

Simon blinks in surprise. “Yeah, you know them?”

“They come here sometimes. Connor likes photography, I help him with album supplies every now and then.” Markus explains, and it hurts in his chest like a dull ache, like a wound that’s not quite healed over yet.

“Yeah he’s actually quite good. Likes polaroids, but Ronan surprised him with a super fancy digital camera for his birthday.” Simon’s smiling that fond smile, the kind worn when thinking of loved ones. “You’d never guess those two look at crime scene evidence day in and day out in a lab but I guess everyone needs a hobby huh?”

“Yeah.” Markus gives him a half smile, leading him down to the shelves containing the digital papers. “Do you know if Connor prefers printing on glossy or matte?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll just grab one of each and see what he likes better.” Simon shrugs, and Markus gives him the two packets.

He rings up the total on the register, and Simon brandishes his phone. “No surcharge on Amex, I remembered this time.”

Markus hands him the packets and the receipt. “Tell Connor he can return the one he doesn’t end up using, and swap it if he likes. Just keep this.”

“Thanks Markus.” Simon smiles, and it really really isn’t fair that he’s so soft and handsome and _taken_. “Say, are you single?”

The question brings his heart to a stuttering stop and it feels like an eternity staring at Simon in disbelief. “You’re dating Ronan.”

“Yeah, I am.” Simon cocks a brow. “I’m just asking if _you’re_ single.”

“I don’t-” the pain is gone and instead there’s anger like a big red blister. “That’s not appropriate to ask me! That’s hardly relevant to you!”

“Hey whoah, okay!” Simon holds up his palms in surrender. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just asking for someone else. Not for me. I’m not cheating on my boyfriend with you. Just uh, someone I know has it pretty bad for you.”

Markus feels- no, he has too many feelings to process and it must be showing on his face because Simon doesn’t wait around for a reply.

“Sorry Markus, I’ll get going.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I think he’s single.” Daniel declares, stepping over Sumo and hanging up his coat on the hook.

“Who’s single?” Connor blinks, looking up from where he’s watching Simon pipe icing on the star shaped cookies.

“Freckles from the art store.” Daniel joins them by the kitchen counter, admiring the sweet little squiggles of icing. “Here, I got you these.” He hands the packets to Connor who breaks into a wide smile.

“Markus at the Bowerbird?” Ronan enters from the lounge, an empty tray of coffee cups held in his hands. Daniel leans up to greet him with a kiss.

“Yeah, you know, the one Simon’s all puppy-eyed for.”

“Hey!” Simon protests, elbowing his brother. “Shut up, he’s not interested. He’s probably straight.”

“He dresses like an art hoe, Simon, he’s not straight.” Daniel drawls, though he figures he deserves the whap of a wooden spoon and accepts it with a passing wince.

“He’s the son of Carl Manfred.” Ronan steps around them to set the tray down and turn the coffee machine on for a fresh pot. “You could say he’s just taken sartorial cues from his father.”

“Carl Manfred has always been openly, publicly bisexual, so once again: Freckles is an art hoe and not straight.” Daniel argues jabbing a finger at Ronan to reiterate his point.

“It doesn’t matter he’s not interested in _me_!” Simon shouts, and there’s an uncomfortable beat of stunned silence. “I- I already tried asking him out to dinner. He said no.”

Connor reaches over to pat his shoulder, awkward but well meaning.

Daniel scoffs. “Well then I guess he’s an idiot.”

“Coffee, anyone?” Ronan asks, diverting everyone’s attention.

“Yes please.” Simon mutters, piping a smiley face on the last star cookie. He adds little dots of caramel around its cheeks.

Like freckles.

 

* * *

 

“Alice, not too fast!”

The guardian of Mister Fantastic the Fox runs right up to the counter, ignoring the warning and looking up at Markus with a beaming smile.

“Hullo mister!” She greets breathlessly, fox plushtoy squeezed under one arm.

“Good afternoon Alice.” Markus greets, feeling the joy radiant from her small body worm under his skin and melt away the jagged ice around his heart. He’s had to put up defences to protect it since the past couple of weeks hadn’t been kind to it. “What can I do for you today?”

He glances up just in time to see a very large statuesque man enter the store, having to duck his head to avoid hitting it against the top frame.

“Dad’s going to buy Mister Fantastic a ribbon!”

“Oh is he now?” Markus smiles as the other man rests a hand fondly atop her curls.

“What sort of ribbon does Mister Fantastic want?”

“A stripey one please!” Alice holds up the plushtoy and it’s then that Markus notices the neat little white shirtcollar around its neck.

“Shall we make it like an office tie?” Markus offers and her childish delight elicits a laugh from both men. “I take it that’s a yes?”

“Oh yes please! Pretty please!” Alice grabs her father’s hand and tugs him down the aisle having remembered it from her last visit. “Up please!”

The man’s laugh is a deep rumble in his broad chest, and he picks her up with no visible effort at all and sits her on the crook of one arm. “Which one would you like, Alice?”

“That one please!” She points at a red grosgrain ribbon with yellow stripes.

“One office tie for Mister Fantastic coming right up.” Markus declares, taking the reel off the rack to bring back to the counter. Alice’s father carries her the entire way, face pleasantly neutral, as though she weighed nothing at all.

Markus cut two hand lengths and Alice props up her fox so he can tie a perfect windsor around its neck. “There we are, ready to cause mischief!”

“You’re the best!” Alice laughs, admiring his work. Her father pays the ribbon and thanks him profusely, and Markus returns Alice’s waves enthusiastically as they take their leave.

 

The good mood lasts long after they’ve gone, like glowing embers from a bonfire. Markus slips into the breakroom to make himself a cup of hot chocolate, telling himself he’s earned the sugar hit. When he emerges from the breakroom cup in hand, Simon is standing at the counter nervously wringing his hands.

“Hello Markus.” He greets timidly, and Markus steadies himself with a deep breath.

“Hello Simon.” He can be civil, there’s no reason not to be.

“Just these, please.” A block of air-dry clay sits on the counter, along with little wells of craft paints.

“What are you having them make this time?” He asks, scanning the items.

“We’re um, we’re making dinosaur footprints.” Simon explains with a wan smile. “We’ll bury them in the sandpit and have the children ‘discover’ them.”

“Sounds like fun.” Markus offers a grin, and Simon makes an attempt to return it. He fumbles through his wallet and places a few bills on the counter.

“Simon, listen I-” Markus swallows thickly. “About last time, I overreacted and I was rude and I wanted to apologise.”

“No! No no!” Simon waves his hands in protest. “No, it’s fine. You were firm in your answer, it wasn’t insulting I promise. It’s fine Markus.”

“Well, alright.” Markus capitulates reluctantly. “I don’t want you to think I was insulted by you asking me, not after you cleared it up anyway. But um yeah I’m- I’m single.”

He feels his face heat up, moreso when Simon’s eyes widen and a lovely little blush stains his cheeks.

“I’ll- I’ll um,” Simon takes the bag and starts to back away. “I’ll just get going. Thank you Markus.”

“Say hi to Ronan for me, and Connor and Sumo too.” Markus gives a little wave which Simon mimics almost dazedly.

“Okay?”

 

 _Why oh why_ , Markus thinks, _can't you be single too?_

 


	4. elderflower cordial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude for all the love and support this silly story has received. A day after I posted ch.3 I had a family emergency that required me to fly out of the country and be away for a week. When I returned I promptly fell ill and am only just recovering now. All the while I moved into a new apartment, and my life has been an endless routine of packing moving and unpacking boxes (and ikea furniture).
> 
> Receiving such hilarious comments helped me through the horrible, tedious situation, and gave me many reasons to smile. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so so so very much for all the kudos and comments- they helped keep me going and inspired me to finish this last chapter.
> 
> I hope you like it!

The soft afternoon breeze carries her perfume through the door before he spots her, something spicy and bold to match her fashionable ensemble. She's chewing gum, hands jammed in her pockets and headphones over her ears, posture lax and confident as she strides in. When their eyes meet she grins, pulling her headphones down to rest around her neck.

"Where do you keep the origami paper?" She asks, blowing a lock of red hair away from her face before tucking it behind her ear.

"Third aisle, towards the back." Markus directs and she gives a lazy two fingered salute before meandering away. When she returns she seems to scrutinise him, narrowing her eyes as she looks him over. He fidgets uncomfortably under gaze.

"So you're the famous Freckles huh?" She gives him a grin as she places a couple of notes on top of a stack of origami paper.

"I guess so?" Markus blinks, handing her her change as she tosses the wad of paper into her backpack. "I mean, I have them?"

"My girlfriend comes here all the time, she's the one who buys the paper." She shows him her lockscreen, and there's the petite blonde office lady smiling brightly as she's being kissed on the cheek. "This is one of hers." She toys with Gaff the origami unicorn still perched on the register since the day he'd been created. "I'm North by the way."

"Markus." He shakes her hand as she laughs.

"Yeah I know. Simon doesn't shut up about you." She backs away from the counter, slipping the headphones back over her ears as she heads towards the entrance. "Do us all a favour and date him already ok?"

"He has a boyfriend!" Markus shouts, unsure if she hears him over her music. North makes a confused expression, one at his words or perhaps at the inability to hear them before she's over the threshold and out of earshot.

There's a young man waiting outside for her; tall, dark, and handsome with an easy smile and gentle eyes. He gives Markus a curious look before North says something that makes him laugh. They leave and Markus can't help but feel he's missing something crucial.

 

He can’t ponder too long, though, because his next customer is none other than Mister Fantastic the Fox and his guardian Alice. Markus feels his mood brighten immediately at the sight of the little girl and her fox plush.

“Hullo Mister Markus!”

“Good afternoon Alice, I hope you and the Mister are feeling ‘fantastic’ today?” He asks with an  exaggerated wag of his eyebrows, causing her to erupt into giggles.

“We are!” Alice nods enthusiastically, making the plushtoy ‘wave’ at him in greeting.

“You must be Markus.” A woman with ash blonde hair and bright blue eyes comes to stand behind Alice, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “I’m Kara, Alice’s mother. I work with Simon at the kindergarten nearby- I’ve heard so much about you it finally feels good to put a face to the name.”

Markus reaches across the counter to shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Kara. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Her expression shifts from warmth to mild anxiety, her hand dropping from her daughter’s shoulder so she can fiddle with her wedding ring.

“Simon and I were thinking of hosting a little art show before Spring break starts.” Kara explains hesitantly. “The weather’s getting warmer and lighter, and the children are looking forward to the change of scenery. Simon thought we could string up the artwork with little pegs like a hanging display and the children could show their families on the last day of school.”

“That’s a great idea.” Markus compliments, walking around the counter to lead her down one of the aisles. “What medium did you have in mind? We have canvas boards they could use a variety of mediums on, or perhaps large poster boards they could stick coloured paper on? Do you have a preference? Is it limited to two-dimensional or is sculpture an option? There’s air-dry clay they could use, and then paint over?”

He catches himself before he can ramble on further, Kara looking increasingly more unsure as she eyes the standing rack of poster paper and card stock.

“I’m not sure Markus, we have paints and paper left over from previous lessons but…” She trails off and he’s struck with sudden recognition; they can’t afford it. He knows that look from the students who come in, agonizing over prices and thumbing the calculator on their phone as they pick up and put back items. “Maybe we’ll just get some poster board and glue? I’m sure we can use what we have in the classroom, or-”

She seems to come to a decision, taking a small stack of A4 boards and a gallon of PVA glue with her as Alice trails along like a little duckling.

He carefully slides the poster boards into a paper sleeve before bagging the glue as Kara counts out notes onto the counter. Alice catches his eye and offers him a big grin, oblivious to her mother’s unease.

“Hey, Kara, listen,” he starts gently, “how about I talk to my boss about sponsoring some supplies? Simon’s here all the time, the kindergarten is practically a regular patron for us.”

“You’d do that?” There’s a flicker of hope in her eyes and Markus smiles.

“I mean it can’t hurt to ask, right? I want to help.” He nods earnestly and it’s Kara’s turn to smile.

“That’s wonderful Markus- _you’re_ wonderful, thank you!”

 

His boss says no. It doesn’t surprise Markus when she turns him down, and though it’s the answer he’s expected all along it doesn’t lessen the sting of disappointment.

“I’m sorry Markus, we just can’t afford that.” Rose sighs and Markus feels guilty for even having asked. “I can give a bulk discount and sell it to them at cost price, but that’s the best I can do.”

“It’s alright Rose, thanks for considering it.” He knows Bowerbird had been owned by her late husband and he certainly didn’t want to press his luck knowing how hard she worked to keep it afloat. “I’ll let them know about the offer.”

 

It weighs in his chest, distracting him so much so he overfills Carl’s mug of coffee until the liquid sloshes off the table’s edge.

“If I could feel my legs I’d probably yell in pain but I _can_ tell you you’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers.” Carl rests a hand on his arm and Markus startles back into the present.

“Dad, oh god I’m-” He grabs a few napkins and attempts to mop up the mess. Carl’s expression is one of concern, his touch gentle but firm as he halts Markus and guides him to sit down in the other dining chair.

“Hey, come on, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing serious, I just-” the heavy guilt in his chest presses down into a sigh. “The kindergarten wants to put an art show together but the staff are struggling to pay for it out of their own pockets. I asked Rose if the art store could maybe sponsor some materials but she’s just getting by as is. I feel guilty for ever even asking but now I also have to tell the kindergarten staff.”

He expects Carl to nod sagely and dispense something poetic and perfectly fitting. What Markus doesn’t expect is for Carl to scoff and laugh brightly.

“Oh is _that_ all?”

“What?”

“It’s just _money_? Oh Markus, you’re a good kid.” Carl pats his hand, eyes twinkling. “Listen, how about I just sponsor the show?”

“...What?” He echoes a second time, eyes wide.

“I’ll give what’s her name a call, the mayor, ‘something’ Warren- Liz? Maybe they can use the town hall and make a nice event out of it.” Carl muses, already plucking his phone from his shirt pocket. “And who was that caterer for the last shmoozy party Elijah held? What’s his assistant’s name? Candice? Chloe? It’s Chloe, I’ll email her. Oh and I’ll ask Hank for a couple o’ guys to be security for the night.”

“Wait- Carl, wait are you serious?” The whiplash from the realisation catches up as he processes his father’s intent. “I mean, that’s great dad thanks. Wow. Will you be okay though? If the media catches on it’ll be a circus.”

“That’s why it’s going to be an anonymous donation to the kindergarten for the sole purpose of funding the art show.” Carl doesn’t look up from his phone as he rapidly taps away an email. “Who knows Markus, the next great Detroit artist might come from that very class. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I’ve already found you, after all. Maybe I could find another.”

Warmth bubbles up in Markus’ chest, overwhelmingly fond. “Dad, you’re so cheesy.”

“I’m also an ageing rich white man Markus, what else am I going to do with all this money? You’re not getting married any time soon are you?” A pause and a sly grin. “Whatever happened to that sweet blond boy you were daydreaming about?”

“Simon? Oh he uh-” Markus sighs, “he’s dating Ronan. Hank’s son, the younger one.”

Carl frowns. “Hank’s boy? No, I saw Hank last week walking Sumo with his other boy Connor. He said Ronan was over at his boyfriend Danny’s for the weekend.”  

“Danny?”

“Maybe it’s a new boyfriend.” Carl grins roguishly. “Maybe you’ve still got a chance?”

* * *

 

Grinning like an idiot begins at approximately 3:45pm the next day when he presents a cheque to his boss Rose and fills three shopping baskets with child-safe, non-toxic art supplies. It’s infectious, and Rose soon wears the same slightly incredulous grin on her face as she helps him pack the goods into a large box for him to carry.

The grin is still plastered to his face when he lugs the large box a few blocks down and places it on the desk at reception.

“Are Simon and Kara still here? I’ve got a delivery of art supplies for them.”

“If it’s just a delivery, I can sign for it and you can just leave it here for them.” The receptionist smiles politely.

“Oh, uh, I was wondering if I could deliver it myself? It’s sort of a special delivery.”

“Please sign in as a guest, sir and leave your I.D.. I’ll let them know you’re here.” She slides a guest book to him before taking her leave. He pats his pockets down before plucking his wallet from his back pocket and pinching his I.D. from the wad of cards jammed in there.

“Simon and Kara will see you now sir, you can go right ahead.” She hands him a guest lanyard and gestures at the door.

His grin falters briefly when he steps inside, box in his arms, and is greeted by the sight of Simon in a white uniform sitting on the floor helping a child pack her belongings into her backpack. The smile on his face is soft and gentle.

“Markus, hi!” Kara greets him warmly. “Steph said you had a special delivery for us?”

“ _Very_ special.” Markus sets the box down on the nearby table and turns it slightly so the Bowerbird logo is visible.

“Oh my gosh did you- your boss gave us the sponsorship?” Kara gasps and Simon looks up in surprise.

“Sort of, there was um- another patron.” He tries to tiptoe around the truth. “My boss was only able to give a discount to sell the supplies at cost price but another patron overheard and decided to sponsor the show instead.” It’s not _entirely_ untrue.

“I can’t believe it, thank you Markus that’s wonderful.” Simon smiles brightly, standing up so he can join Kara. He reaches for his hand and clasps it warmly. “Really, we can’t thank you enough.”

“That’s not the end of it.” Markus feels his cheeks flush, so sure the grin on his face is a big dopey one. “It’s going to be a proper event at the community hall, catered and guarded- the works.”

“Oh my- Markus that’s too much!” Kara shakes her head. “We can’t possibly accept that!”

“Yes you can.” Markus corrects. “You two definitely deserve it, and the kids deserve a nice afternoon showing off their hard work to their parents. Besides, Detroit’s next big artist could come from this very classroom.”

It’s a cheesy line borrowed from Carl, but it works on them just as it worked on him. Markus leaves the kindergarten feeling light as a feather, near bursting with happiness.

* * *

 

A week later there’s an envelope waiting for him on the counter when he comes in for his shift on Wednesday. Inside is a postcard invite featuring none other than Mister Fantastic the Fox with a crown of woven daisies on his head, arms wrapped around a large sunflower inviting him to the Spring Art Show.

He feels his face break out into the same dopey grin, and he props the invite up on the register beside Gaff the origami unicorn.

The scent of a familiar perfume has him looking towards the door and sure enough North saunters into the store.

“Hey Freckles.”

“Hello North. More origami paper for Chloe?”

“Yep. You got any holographic ones? She’s on a kick recently.” She taps Gaff fondly. “Chlo told me you’re organising some sort of art show for the squirts Simon teaches? That’s nice of you.”

“It’s my dad’s idea, really. He sort of just escalated the whole thing and now it’s a solid event.” Markus walks down an aisle, looking this way and that before reaching up to grab a cube of holographic papers.

“Hey, so listen.” North hands over a couple of notes and jams the cube into her backpack once they’re back at the counter. “I’ve got it from two reliable sources that Simon is single and definitely ready to marry you.”

“What?” Markus blinks, feeling his cheeks heat. “From who?”

“Danny.”

“Ronan’s...boyfriend?” The word feels strange and hopeful on his tongue at the same time. Ronan, _not_ Simon’s boyfriend. Simon’s _ex._

“Yep that’s him.” North nods. “And Simon himself told me.”

“How do you two even know each other?”

“Jericho.” North shrugs.

“...Is that a mutual friend?”

“It’s a homeless shelter for queer kids.” North blows a bubble with her gum that pops with the scent of blueberries, her demeanour casual and flippant despite the gravity in her words. “You have to be better friends with us to unlock the rest of our Sad Backstory though.”

He stands there stunned, his brain carefully trying to take her words into its grasp, handling them as carefully as if they were glass before placing them down to process later.

“I’ll see you round, Freckles.” She gives him a lazy wave as she takes her leave.

 

 _A homeless shelter for queer kids_. The words press down on his chest, a heavy stone amidst the nauseous roil in his stomach. _A homeless shelter for queer kids._ Simon spent time in a homeless shelter? For queer kids? _Kids_ , North said, how young was he when his parents kicked him out?

Markus is no stranger to being raised by adults not related by blood. The Kamski outreach program had perhaps been a kind twist of fate, or blessed by the will of God, or splashed with a dash of pure luck- Markus had cycled between all three options over and over, thanking whomever could be listening that he’d ended up in the home of Carl Manfred and stayed there instead of continuing through the revolving door of foster homes. Somehow his scribblings with too small pencils and brittle pastels had piqued the interest of a social worker who contacted Abraham Kamski’s arts outreach program. One weekend became two. Two weekends became two months. Two months became twelve and then papers were being signed and he became Markus Manfred. That was nearly fifteen years ago.

Had someone come along for Simon? Was  _he_ given a kind twist of fate, or blessed by the will of God, or splashed with a dash of pure luck?

Markus clenches the paintbrush, feeling the wooden handle creak in his grasp. The canvas is awash with swathes of blues cut violently with a red center.    

“That’s good.”

Carl’s rasp pierces through the heady haze of emotions, and Markus turns to find his father in the doorway with a contemplative expression. “You’ve improved in leaps and bounds, Markus. That’s a hard technique to master.”

He chews his bottom lip, his jaw tensing.

“But that’s not what’s important.” Carl surmises, rolling his wheelchair until he’s at Markus’ side. “And what’s important is something you’ll tell me in your own time.” He gives his hand a squeeze, and Markus for all his worth tries his best to hold his composure. Somehow Carl peers into him as easily as looking into a pool of clear water. Somehow he just sees Markus with all his emotions laid bare, and knows just what to say at just the right time.

“Now my boy, I have an important question I need your help answering.” Carl pats his hand and Markus takes the cue to stand behind him and push the wheelchair back into the living area.

“What is it Carl?”

“I’ve decided to come to the show tomorrow and I need you to help me decide what scarf to wear with the raspberry velvet suit jacket. The one with the leather lapels.”

“Carl it’s an art show for kids.” Markus makes a face. “There won’t even be any alcohol.”

“We’ve got perfectly good scotch to come home to Markus.” Carl chides, picking up two scarves splayed on the dining table. “Now, the paisley or the plaid?”

“Carl are you _sure_ ? Because I managed to downplay the anonymous donation thing, but if you show up people _will_ notice.”

“Hank’s promised it’ll be a locked event with a strict guestlist and I.D. verification.” He tisks, looking from one scarf to another, back and forth. “Paisley or plaid, Markus?”

“I don’t know Carl, why are you asking me? You know what suits your style best.” Markus frowns, though he takes the two scarves and looks them over.

“You can’t make me choose Markus, I’m bisexual I can’t choose between anything that’s just how we are.” Carl drawls and Markus laughs, and it honest to god feels good, chasing away the lingering tension in his chest.

“Well in case you’ve forgotten I’m bi too so we’re exactly where we started. Unable to choose.”

“Ah fuck,” Carl sighs, making a dismissive gesture with his hand, “let’s flip a coin.”

 

* * *

 

By all accounts he shouldn’t be nervous. It’s an art show for five year olds, not an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. But he and Kara have gone from crunching numbers down to the last cent to ensure all the kids had art supplies to fielding emails from Chloe Hersh, PA to Elijah Kamski himself, about catering and Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the DPD about security personnel and I.D. checks.

It’s an event now, a proper one, instead of just stringing up artwork on twine with little miniature pegs and having the children tug their parents into the classroom for a look. Simon and Kara had stressed over pooling resources and rummaging through their pantries to find ingredients to maybe bake some cupcakes and brownies and make little sandwich triangles. Now they’re left standing awkwardly in the community hall as the catering staff bring in platters to arrange on a trestle table. The various artworks made by the children have been _framed_ , and beautifully so, at the donor’s insistence. Their generous donor had apparently left strict instructions that the money cover not only supplies, but framing too, so the children could take their work home to display with pride.

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind and Simon’s still not sure he’s caught up. It doesn’t seem real, certainly not when he’s seen the invoices and the $0 balance at the bottom of each page. He has a sneaking suspicion Markus knows the anonymous donor personally but at this moment there’s no point in pressing. He’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when the gift is an art exhibit fit for actual artists rather than the local kindergarten.

“So.” Kara huffs a breath, hands on her hips.

“So.” Simon gives a short laugh.

“Are you as freaked out over this as I am?” Kara gestures at the setup: the trestle table with baked goods and juices and little paper buntings, and the wall with two rows of framed art.

“I sure am.” Simon confesses with a shake of his head. “But this beats baking forty cupcakes and cookies ourselves.” He leaves her briefly to fetch two glasses of elderflower cordial, or so the staff tell him, and hands one to Kara.

“Well, here’s to an amazing art show, Kara.”

“Cheers, Simon.” She clinks her glass to his. “And to us, the luckiest teachers in Detroit.”

The liquid is chilled and sweet with a fragrant aroma- something way too fancy for kindergarteners for sure but fancy enough for their parents. Kara makes a sound of surprise.

“Wow that tastes fancy. What is it?”

“Elderflower cordial.” Simon can’t make it through the two words without laughing. “This is the same company that catered Elijah Kamski’s fundraiser three months ago.”

“Of course, what kind of party would it be without elderflower cordial?” Kara snorts back a laugh. “Oh, it’s Connor! Hi Connor!” She waves, and Simon follows her gaze to spot Connor and Ronan at the entrance. The older brother returns her wave enthusiastically, the new camera he’d received for his birthday hanging around his neck ready to catalogue the event. Behind him Ronan gives a more subdued, polite wave, and behind Ronan is Lieutenant Anderson directing staff. It’s five minutes until the show starts and Simon knows families will start to trickle in as soon as the Lieutenant finishes assigning security.

He intends to cross the distance to the Anderson brothers, intends to say hello to Ronan and to thank Connor for volunteering to take photos of the event but what happens instead is he walks right into Alice hurrying to her mother. The mostly full glass of cordial in his hand ends up emptying mostly on his carefully selected and pressed lavender shirt.

“Simon! Oh no I’m so sorry!” Alice’s lip wibbles and there’s a switch in his head that flips into Teacher Mode.

“No Alice, it’s perfectly fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into you.” He soothes, crouching down to her eye level. She looks from him to Kara, back and forth, giving her fox plush a squeeze. “Mind your step, there’s a puddle here okay?” Simon ushers her around the spilled cordial and steps aside for one of the catering staff to mop up the liquid. He’s offered a wad of napkins which he uses in an attempt to blot the cordial.

“Daniel is on his way, Simon.” Ronan appears, shrugging off his handsome tailored jacket. “If you phone him now you can ask him to double back and get you a clean shirt. Here, wear this to hide your shirt for now.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you Ronan.” Simon allows him to ease the jacket over his arms from behind, Ronan smoothing the fabric until it rests creaseless against his torso. He flicks his phone to his contacts and hits the first one. “Danny it’s Si, how far are you from home? No I’m fine, I just spilled something on my shirt. Can you grab the nice purple shirt- yes, it should be on the left side of the closet. No no, not the one Uncle Jack gave me the other one. Yes, that one. You’re the best, I’ll see you soon.”     

“Crisis averted?” Ronan asks with a small smile. Simon returns it with a grin.

“Crisis averted.”

“Is that Carl Manfred?” Connor blinks, eyes wide as Hank greets an older gentleman in a wheelchair.

“So it would seem.” Ronan nods. “This small community event just got infinitely more exciting.”

 

* * *

 

Markus hasn’t told a single soul about his father’s attendance. From past experience Markus knows the moment the media catches a whiff of his father’s public whereabouts there’ll be people snooping around taking photos. They’ve taken a taxi instead of his modified sportscar, and kept silent on social media. Lieutenant Anderson reassured Markus if they arrived just before opening they could sneak inside without being seen.

So they do; Carl Manfred is wheeled into the town hall with no fanfare though once inside a dozen heads snap up in surprise.

“Good evening Hank.”

“Hey Carl, you holdin’ up alright?” Hank gives them a grin.

“This fragile machine’s still running.” Carl chuckles. “You look after us tonight, alright?”

“We’ll be good babysitters and then you’ll buy us a drink after and I’ll call it quits.”

“Deal.” Carl shakes his hand with a laugh.

Markus scans the room, spotting Kara and her daughter Alice admiring the wall of art. Close by is the tall man he learned was Alice’s father the day he made a tie for Mister Fantastic. The memory brings a smile to his face and something warm bubbles up in his chest.

The bubble pops when he shifts his gaze and spots Ronan smoothing his white and black jacket around Simon’s shoulders, hands trailing to smooth the lapels to lie flat along his front. Simon smiles gratefully up at him.

They’re exes, Markus tells himself, they’re just exes who stayed friends obviously. He’s just being a good friend and they’re on good terms. They’re exes.

He takes a deep breath.

“You back on earth now Markus?” Carl looks up at him, grin impish as he waves him away. “Go talk to him, I can look after myself; I’d like to catch up with Hank for a little bit anyway. Scoot kiddo.”

Nodding, he steps away from the wheelchair but instead of heading towards Simon he opts to admire the artwork instead. Everything’s been framed, as per Carl’s request, and the sizes range from A4 to A2. There’s brightly coloured paper cut into flowers, there’s splashes of acrylics, there’s even a combination of 3D elements using air-dry clay stuck onto canvas board. There’s something freeing, he realises, admiring art made by children. There’s nothing pretentious, there’s nothing contrived. It’s just art crafted out of joy and exuberance and a healthy amount of glitter.

The air fills with the sound of chatter, higher pitched than he’s used to at similar events given the amount of children present. It blends and melts into a cacophony of giggling and laughter and encouraging murmurs.  

A little girl runs passed him, easily mistaken for Alice if not for a familiar voice who calls her by name.

“Emma! Careful!” Simon laughs, scooping up the girl easily and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He’s shed Ronan’s jacket in the span of a few minutes apparently, perhaps due to the growing crowd and rising temperature.

“Noooooo!” She shrieks with laughter, kicking her feet harmlessly. “Put me doowwwnn!”

“Nuh-uh you’re a menace- if I let you loose you’ll zoom away!” Simon pokes her side and the girl squeals, trying to wriggle away. “I’m going to take you to my brother and tell him how naughty you are!”

“Ronan saavvee meeee!” Emma reaches out towards the bemused man.

“Emma Phillips, are you causing mischief?” Ronan asks calmly, his tone betrayed by the quick quirk of his lips. “Are you giving my partner trouble?”

“No sir!” She pouts, causing him to chuckle softly.

“Alright, I believe you.” He leans in to kiss Simon. “Please put her down.”

“Ewwwww!” Emma pokes her tongue out as Simon laughs, easing her back onto her feet. “Gross! BYE!”

Markus watches her run passed, frozen to the spot. The familiar queasy feeling settles back in his chest, unwelcome and unwanted. They’re exes, he tells himself, they’re exes. Aren’t they?

“Oh, hey Markus.” Simon grins. He watches helplessly as Simon snakes an arm around Ronan’s waist.

“Good evening Markus.”

“Hi.” He’s on autopilot, staring at them numbly.

“Your dad’s made a pretty fancy party for a bunch of kids.” Simon jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Carl. “That’s real nice of him. Otherwise the kindergarten teachers would’ve tried paying for everything out of their own pockets.”

“I’ll tell him that, thanks.” Markus nods, excusing himself. His heart drops lower and lower into his throat with every step he takes away from them.

“Markus!” Kara waves him over. “Your father’s the donor isn’t he?” She tips her head slightly in Carl’s direction. The artist is surrounded by children and parents alike as he gestures animatedly at the wall of work.

“Yeah, he sort of just took the idea and ran with it.” Markus confesses with a sheepish smile. “He’s already the biggest patron of the Kamski outreach program but he couldn’t help himself once I told him about your idea.”

“He’s amazing.” She whispers, and he nods in agreement.

“He really is.” He catches her gaze. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

 They walk over to the ever growing crowd, people parting for him once they realise who he is.

“Carl, this is Kara- one of the kindergarten teachers.”

“Oh, a pleasure to meet you Kara.” Carl smiles as he shakes her hand. “I was just telling these parents what a fine job you and Simon have done helping their children explore their artistic talent.”

“Mr Manfred, the honour is ours, truly.” Kara’s near breathless, cheeks rosy as she stammers through her words. “We- this is just- all of this is amazing. We couldn’t have achieved any of this without your help.”

“Well I’m glad to help, Kara.” Carl’s smile is earnest, his eyes crinkling. He turns briefly to Markus. “I’m a bit parched Markus, you think you could grab me a glass of that fancy stuff? The same one they had at Elijah’s party?”

“I’ll be right back dad.” Markus nods, easing his way through the crowd and heading towards the kitchens.

 

Daniel watches Emma run to her parents, giving them a wave when she points him out to them.

“I swear it was just yesterday when I was babysitting her.” He sighs as Ronan presses a kiss to his temple. “She used to be tiny.”

“They do grow fast, Daniel.” Ronan comments as he narrows his eyes, scanning the room before nodding. “There’s Simon. Best you get him into a nice clean shirt. He and Kara will need to make a speech soon.”

“Yeah I’ve got the shirt in my car, I’ll go grab it.” He looks around. “Toilets are on the other side down the hall aren’t they?”

“You can use the staff entrance from outside and cut through the kitchens.” Ronan informs him. “That way he won’t need to carry the shirt across the room to get to the bathroom.”

“You’re a lifesaver, love you.” He can’t resist returning the kiss, pressing his lips against Ronan’s temple though he as to tip onto his toes to do so. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

 

The kitchens are down one of the corridors and through a set of double doors, and he knows there’s a separate room with industrial fridges where the drinks are kept chilled. He’d been going to Kamski parties since he was sixteen and the town hall is as familiar to Markus as his own house. He whistles a cheery tune, hands jammed in his pockets as he nods in greeting to the kitchen staff.

Pushing open the door into the cooling room, he knows it’ll be the third fridge holding the elderflower cordial Carl likes. What he doesn’t know is that the cooling room is being used as a makeshift changeroom where a very familiar blond _shirtless_ man is being handed a shirt by another very familiar blond man. So familiar he looks _identical_.

“Oh fuck there’s two of you.” Markus blurts, and Simon(?) yelps in surprise as Simon(?) whips around and immediately shields the other from view.

“What?”

“There’s two of you, oh my god you’re _identical twins_!” Markus feels like he’s stepped into the twilight zone, looking at the perfectly replicated pair in front of him. One is in office attire, white shirt rolled up at the sleeves and Markus recognises him as the one Ronan kissed.

“...Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re Danny. You’re Ronan’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah we’ve been through this before Markus.” Daniel looks at him warily, still standing protectively in front of his brother.

“And you’re Simon. Simon the kindergarten teacher. You’re single.” Markus catches his gaze, Simon dropping it immediately in favour of struggling into a lilac shirt.

“If you don't have the decency to tell us apart you don’t deserve to date my brother.” Daniel huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You have the same face! You sound exactly the same give a guy a break here!” He protests, palms offered in surrender.

“Danny it’s ok, he didn’t know.” Simon’s voice is timid, his hand on Daniel’s shoulder to placate him. His twin brother rolls his eyes.

“Well he should because we’re nothing alike.” He gives an exasperated, irritated sigh. “Whatever. You two sort this out. I’ll take Ronan's jacket back and put your shirt in the car Si. Don’t take too long Kara needs you for the speech.” He turns to glare at Markus. “If you make him cry I’ll kill you. My boyfriend works in forensics and his father’s Hank Anderson. We’ll make you disappear.”

“Danny!” Simon gasps though his twin looks unrepentant.

“I said what I said.” The glare doesn’t slip as Daniel takes his leave.

 

Simon fiddles with his buttons, smoothing imaginary creases from his shirt as he avoids Markus’ gaze. “So. Um. That’s my brother Daniel. I’m guessing you didn’t realise we were twins?”

“You asked me to dinner and I said no not because I wasn't interested but because I heard Danny tell Ronan he loved him over the phone.” Markus explains, expression apologetic. “I didn't want to be mixed up with a guy dating somebody already. Even though I was dying to.”

Simon darts his gaze briefly to meet his, and Markus feels his heart skip a beat as his stomach twists itself into knots.

“But I wasn’t dating Ronan.” Simon shakes his head.

“No you weren’t.” The confirmation is validating, and Markus’ heart squeezes tightly.

“Are you still interested now?” There’s a rosy flush to Simon’s cheeks and he wrings his hands anxiously. “If I asked you out again, will you say yes this time?”

The usual neat hairstyle Simon wears is in disarray, soft blond hair tousled most likely when he was getting changed. Markus reaches forward and gently sweeps the locks away from his forehead. There’s a faint pink patch of new skin, and Markus thumbs it softly. The graze Simon sustained that rainy day weeks ago when he’d fallen. How had he never noticed it? Probably because there’s so much of Simon to notice, to admire, to yearn for and pine after.

He lets his hand fall away, fingertips tracing the curve of his cheek before he cups his face.

“Can we skip dinner and cut right to the part where I get to kiss you?”

“I think I can allow that, yes.” Simon smiles and Markus leans in and presses their lips together and kissing has never ever tasted so sweet and felt so right and it’s all he wants to do for the rest of the night, for the rest of his life. They melt into each other and they kiss and they kiss and they kiss until Simon pulls away breathless. His lips are rosy and slick and Markus leans in to kiss them because he’s discovered that’s what they’re made for.

“Markus, I have to go.” Simon giggles helplessly, trying to push him away. “Kara and I have to make a speech.”

Reluctantly he lets him go, pausing to grab a bottle of cordial from the fridge for Carl before he trails Simon out of the cooling room, through the kitchens and back down the corridor. Just before they reach the double doors, Markus snags Simon by the wrist and tugs him into his arms. He crowds him back against the wall and kisses him until they’re both breathless, heart hammering in his chest he’s sure it’s audible for Simon to hear.

“Dinner Wednesday night?” Simon asks shyly.

“Wednesday’s too far away Simon.” Markus counters. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, come over and I’ll cook brunch.”

Simon nods rapidly, as if unable to trust his own voice at that moment. Markus kisses his nose playfully. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Simon echoes, shifting so he can slide out of his grasp. “I really have to go.”

* * *

 

By the time Markus hands the bottled beverage to his father, Simon has joined Kara by the small stage, ready to address the crowd. Carl grins up at him slyly.

“I’m going to assume your little talk together went well?”

“How would you feel about a guest joining us for brunch tomorrow, Carl?” He asks instead of answers, and Carl’s grin widens into a bright smile at the mischief in his voice. Markus looks to the stage just as Simon looks away from Kara and to the crowd. Their eyes meet briefly and Simon’s expression lifts from professional to sweetly bashful. 

Carl watches the exchange, amused as he gives Markus’ hand a fond pat.

“I feel like it’s about damn time son.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, once again, for all the support you've given this story (and me, by extension).
> 
> If you've got an account, come scream about these two [with me on tumblr?](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com)


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